Facing Functionism
-Times have changed on Cybertron, and for Swift Blade, it's probably closer to landing on an alien world than her own homeworld. The castes existed during the Quintesson Occupation, but they were enforced by foreign oppressors. As Swift Blade is taken to Vos, home of Cybertron's air forces, it may slowly become apparent that the oppression still lingers. Armed guards are taking her via transport from Thunderhead Pass to a Functionist Center for her assessment (and unbeknownst to her, a debriefing and recording session). Very little is said, and with two bulky military frames on either side of her as the transport flies on, it may start to give her a feel of forboding. Eventually the shuttlecraft docks in one of Vos' many aeries, and she is lead towards a building with an unusual symbol above it's door: A stylized transformation cog with golden 'wings'. One inside, she's taken to a simple room that looks like a medical examination station, all in white, brightly lit and perfectly sterile. -If those in the transport with her do not wish to speak, then Swift Blade will not attempt to draw them into conversation. She's equally quiet and sits with a neutral expression on her face, whatever she might be feeling inside. As for oppression, well, it had already been hinted at by a few of the people she had already met that things were not quite 'right' on Cybertron. Still, she has more hope for her own people than she did for alien oppressors. The full truth of the matter might be very upsetting for her once she realizes the extent of Cybertron's problems. But, for now, she is content to follow the proper channels, as it were. -She's left alone in the room for what seems forever, until the door reopens: Standing there, wrapped in a red robe with a guildmaster emblem holding it closed at the neck. Nine yellow optics shine out from the hood, and a claws hand holds a black staff against which seemingly hunchbacked figure leans against. "Ahhh, there you are. I've heard quite a bit about you already," the raspy voice states pleasantly. -Swift Blade looks only mildly surprised at this statement, as well as the fact that this being has so many optics. Two had always seemed sufficient to her. "I didn't think there was much to tell," she says honestly, inclining her head respectfully, if a bit uncertainly. -"There aren't many mechs and femmes our age left on this planet," the guildmaster replies. "You're in remarkable shape for having been away from Cybertron for so long. Tell me - what is your name, and has anyone bothered to fill you in on what's gone on since you were last here?" -"My name is Swift Blade, and I suppose I'm in as good shape as I am because I was in stasis for a good deal of the time." So, pretty much, though she's from ages long past, she hasn't had the same amount of time gaining experience. "I've heard a little bit, and there have been mentions that things are not doing well here, but I consider the Quintessons gone to be nothing but good news," she states. -"Ahh, yes. I lived through those days. My name is Tarantulas, and I'll carry out your assessment," he says with a bow. Standing up straight, he pushs back the cloak, letting his extra altmode limbs to curl up behind his shoulders like the boney remnants of wings. "Yes, the Quintessons left, and we became thirteen tribes, lead by Primes, until even they fought amongst themselves and disappeared into the depths of space." He gathers up diagnostics as he continues to explain the basics of history that Steel Blade missed. -Swift Blade listens attentively, though she sits very still. It seems as though she's used to being still, and only her optics tracting Tarantulas' slight movements show that she's a living thing. She nods her head to show that she has no questions at this time. -"Can you transform?" Tarantulas asks, giving Swift Blade some space as he moves back, a scanning device in his right hand. -Swift Blade nods her head. Standing, she exercises a transformation sequence, the motions rather familiar since she was initially quite a standard seeker. However, she looks a bit more rounded than the general model. In such a mode, she has even less expression and waits rather passively for further instruction. -"Ahhh... Oh I haven't seen one of these in a very long time," Tarantulas says with a note of approval and admiration. He runs a scanning beam over Swift Blade. "Mmm. Yes, you've had some upgrades done, haven't you?" He goes to a datapad and makes some notes. "You may transform back." -Swift Blade transforms back. There isn't a lot of hesitation; she's definitely been able to stay well maintained. Then again, when someone pays a lot for something, they often take care of it if they have any sense at all. "I have been modified a couple of times, yes," she agrees. "Though I wouldn't consider all of them upgrades." -"I'd like to see your spark please; open your torso plate," Tarantulas cheerfully asks like some kind of weird eigh-legged primary physician. "Do you recall what species performed your upgrades?" -If there is anything unusual about being asked to have one's spark examined, Swift Blade doesn't know it. In fact, it probably takes her a moment to recognize what he is asking; she had heard many terms for it since being sold. After all, not all the races would know, or care, to use Cybertronian words. Briefly she describes the various species who had modified her and the modifications made, as far as she knows about them. -Tarantulas scans the spark, making notes. "Hmm. Well, considering your age and your altmode... you aren't going to assess highly. You're practically obsolete. That's something that Functionism doesn't take kindly to. However, -I- believe you to have great value." -Swift Blade blinks her optics. "Explain functionalism," she requests. The word, as such, has little meaning for her. She does, however, understand that it is not a good thing for her if she is not taken kindly to. But she's not angry about this and only seems to be mildly dismayed. -"Form determines function determines fate," Tarantulas explains. "Your altmode implies what job you should do to benefit society; your job determines your place. That is the core tenet of Functionism. It's a means of organizing society into efficiency." The way he says it seems to imply a bit of sarcasm, as if he himself does not believe in the system he works in. -Swift Blade purses her lips into a line as she listens to this. "I see," she says. "There is some sense to that. Some forms would just fit some jobs better." She tilts her head to the side. "Efficiency is a virtue. But so is choice, when you haven't had it for so long." -Tarantulas inputs the data and after a moment produces identification and function assignment for Swift Blade. "Oh, I wouldn't worry. We had choice taken away but the Quintesson Imperium, and successfully rebelled against it. We've had choice taken away by the Senate, Prime and Functionist Council... rebellion is all but guaranteed." -Swift Blade raises her optic ridges a trifle. "That doesn't sound pleasant," she murmurs. "In all honesty, I wasn't expecting to return to such...turmoil." She frowns. "However, it doesn't seem to me as though things would have been much better if I had remained out there, in space." She frowns. "My options were limited." Her expression is wry, though again, she doesn't seem terribly upset. -"Limited options mean you'll simply have to be creative," Tarantulas advises as he hands over the ID and duty "papers". "You've been assigned to the Cybertronian Air Command as a recruit to the Seekers. You'll have training of course, but I think you'll do well, so long as you take the time to read the information I've given you on the social standards you'll be expected to adhere to. Middle caste is much better than what you'd be given if you were a data slug or a beast-mode." -"And it sounds better than being an outright slave owned by alien creatures that are a third of my size," Swift Blade remarks, accepting the things given to her. Rising to her feet, she adds, "Thank you for your time." -"You're more than welcome, my dear. I would advise you to be wary of Air Commander Starscream... he's sly, that one. Don't -ever- fully trust him," Tarantulas quietly admonishes, before opening the door to let Swift Blade leave.